The Flower Fairy
by FiveRoses
Summary: I wanted to write something that met the Bechdel Test - explanation within - and this is the result.  Jane still managed to sneak his way into the story, however.  He does that.


_Okay, I wrote this a little while ago when I came across the idea of The Bechdel Test, which is as follows: 1) It includes at least two women 2) who have at least one conversation alone 3) about something other than a man/men. This idea appealed to me, but with Lisbon it was actually quite tricky. I decided that the "talking about a man/men" most likely means in a romantic context, because it's incredibly difficult to talk about your life without mentioning any men at all (especially when you're almost entirely surrounded by men like Lisbon is), so I don't count mentions of brothers, fathers, etc. as "talking about men". I tried to keep Jane out of the story, I really, really did, but between him being incorrigible and me being compulsive, he snuck his way in anyway. "Bother", as Pooh would say._

_Anyway, I'm posting now to show that (a) yes, I'm still alive; and (b) even though _The Mentalist_ is currently on my black-list, it would be ungracious to take my ire out on Lisbon, of whom I am still inordinately fond._

* * *

**The Flower Fairy**

The smooth, calm surface of the sea and the sun-drenched peacefulness of the day was a perfect reflection of how Teresa Lisbon was feeling as she sat in the dappled shade of the patio and sipped her drink. She could hear the sound of children's laughter drifting up from the beach and the tinkle of ice being dropped into a glass as a waiter prepared a drink for one of her fellow diners. The mellow murmur of conversation at one of the other tables merged with the gentle sound of the sea's unceasing ebb and flow, creating a soothing effect that was almost hypnotic. Lisbon was so relaxed she could have almost gone to sleep.

Her reverie was broken by one of the other holiday-makers, who had come rather diffidently over to Lisbon's table and was shyly introducing herself. She was a slender, brown-haired woman, a little taller than Lisbon and, Lisbon guessed, also in her late thirties. She told Lisbon her name was Susan, and then paused, clearly outside her comfort zone.

"I noticed that you're staying here on your own," she said uncertainly, "and since I am too, I thought maybe we could have lunch together." She then added in a rush. "But if you want to be alone, I perfectly understand. I don't want you to feel obliged." Her shoulders slumped slightly. Without giving Lisbon a chance to reply she continued. "My husband always used to effortlessly make friends with people wherever we went. I, however, don't have the first idea how to go about it."

Lisbon smiled at her.

"My name is Teresa," she said, disarmed by Susan's honesty. "Have a seat. I haven't ordered yet."

Susan looked relieved.

"You're just being kind," she said, giving Lisbon a mischievous grin, "but fortunately pride isn't one of my besetting sins."

She sat down at Lisbon's table and gave a happy little sigh. "It's the most beautiful day, isn't it?" she said, gazing out over the sun-kissed water. "It makes a person feel happy to be alive."

A waiter materialised at their table, so they placed their lunch orders and then sat for a moment in silence after he had gone.

"My husband and I came here on our honeymoon and then again on several of our anniversaries. He died a couple of years ago. Pancreatic cancer." Susan fell silent.

"I'm sorry," Lisbon said sincerely.

Susan smiled at Lisbon. "Life has a disconcerting way of just going on, doesn't it? It's like the tide. Unstoppable. I wanted to make everything pause for a little while, so I came back here. To remember. And after a couple of days I became very aware of something. When James and I came here, we always seemed to get to know everybody else, both staff and guests, almost immediately. Everything with James ended up being very sociable. But I'm the quiet, retiring type. Without him, I tend to just keep myself to myself. And I realised that if I was really going to remember him properly, I needed to be more proactive for a change. Actually talk to someone. Make an effort."

"Is it helping?" Lisbon enquired.

Susan looked thoughtful. "I'm not going about it right. James would know everything about you by now – the name of your childhood pet, your favourite colour, your shoe-size. I don't have James' knack for getting people to talk."

"Oh, that's not your fault," Lisbon protested. "I'm just not much of a talker. You should have chosen that lady over there." She pointed to a large woman in a floral dress who was sitting on the other side of the patio. "All you would have had to do is introduce yourself and that would have opened the floodgates. You wouldn't have had to make any effort at all."

Susan laughed.

"But I wanted to talk to you _because_ you looked so serene and self-contained, not in spite of it. Besides, James would have also made a beeline for you. He had a particular fondness for charming the secrets out of pretty women." She said it without any rancour in her tone. Evidently she'd never felt at all threatened by her husband's appreciation of other women.

"Do you have children?" Lisbon asked.

Susan shook her head. "No. We intended to, but I'm glad we didn't. No child should have to grow up without a parent. Life's hard enough as it is without a blow like that crippling your life from the get-go."

"Is that what happened to you?"

"No, my parents are still alive, thank heavens. But my aunt and uncle were killed when I was a kid, and my cousins came to live with us, so I've seen the effects first-hand. It's not something one 'gets over', is it?"

"No, it's not," Lisbon said softly.

Susan looked at her, and was going to ask the inevitable question, but something in Lisbon's closed expression stopped her. She asked instead, "So, what do you do?"

"I'm a cop," Lisbon said.

Susan looked at her disbelievingly.

"Are you pulling my leg?" she asked.

Lisbon looked both amused and a little piqued.

"Don't I look like a cop?"

"Not even a little bit," Susan said. "Actually you look a bit like a grown-up version of one of Cicely Mary Barker's flower fairies. The blackthorn fairy, perhaps." She cocked her head on one side and looked at Lisbon with an analytical air. "Or maybe the heliotrope fairy."

Lisbon was a little taken aback. She wasn't accustomed to being compared to a fairy. It wasn't at all how she saw herself. Part of her was oddly pleased.

"I'm more impressive when I have my badge and gun," she said, giving Susan a crooked grin.

"Being underestimated can often be useful," Susan commented. "Not being automatically seen as a threat can be worked to one's advantage. And if you have a gun, then I imagine you can have the best of both worlds."

"Well, I hadn't really looked at it like that," Lisbon said, with a laugh, "but I suppose you're right. It can get annoying when people don't take you seriously, though."

"More fool them," Susan said firmly. "Do you like being a cop?"

"Yes," Lisbon said positively. "It's stressful, but I feel that I'm doing something worth doing and that's important to me. Plus it's what I'm good at. I can't really picture myself doing anything else." She looked at the sea, her mind far away, trying to imagine herself in some other line of work. Her imagination did not rise to the challenge.

Susan was looking at her interestedly. She could picture Teresa doing any number of things, but she found the idea of her being a cop oddly difficult to wrap her head around.

"What do you do?" Lisbon asked, to deflect the attention from herself.

"Music teacher," Susan said, with a slight grimace. "Piano mostly. It's a thankless job. The less said on the subject, the better."

"Why don't you do something else if you don't enjoy it?" Lisbon asked.

Susan shrugged.

"Because the few kids who are worth teaching make up for the many kids who aren't. But spending a large part of one's life listening to reluctant young pianists playing abominably is nevertheless very trying."

"Everything comes with a price, I guess," Lisbon said. "We just have to decide whether it's one we're willing to pay. Life is just one long bartering session. Is what I'm getting worth what I'm giving?" She sighed. "It's rather depressing, really. Especially when you get to the point where you can no longer tell whether you're getting ripped off or not. Or, even worse, when you inadvertently trade something worthwhile for something worthless and find out too late that no take-backs are allowed."

"Do you have a specific example in mind?" Susan asked, certain that she did.

Lisbon shrugged evasively.

"Not really," she said, then added. "Well, actually, I have lots of examples in mind. I was just running my whole life through my head and coming to the sorry realisation that I am not good at bartering."

"That's because you're empathetic," Susan said. "It's hard to drive a hard bargain when you're busy putting yourself in the other guy's shoes the whole time."

Lisbon looked at her, surprised.

"What makes you think I do that?"

"Well, it would explain why you like being a cop," she said. "You empathise with the victims strongly enough that you can be tough on the criminals. Everything is comfortingly black and white. Justice for the sinned against; punishment for the sinner. The system decides which is which and you can leave your feelings out of it. And you strike me as someone who wants her feelings to be left out of things. Feelings are dangerous and exhausting and overwhelming and hard to control once they're let loose. Better to keep them at bay if at all possible. Am I right?"

She raised her eyebrows enquiringly at Lisbon. Lisbon gave her a slightly uncomfortable smile.

"And preferably not analyse or talk about them either," she said, her expression wry.

Susan immediately looked apologetic.

"Sorry, I do that. Don't mind me. Let's talk about something else. What do you like to do when you're not working?"

Lisbon got a slightly hunted look in her eye.

"I'm a bit of a workaholic, I'm afraid. Everything else has sort of fallen by the wayside."

"Well, at least you're taking a holiday," Susan said, realising that she had touched another sore point.

"I didn't have a choice," Lisbon responded. "I accumulated so much leave that my boss told me I had to take two weeks off this month, whether I wanted to or not. Apparently the State of California doesn't want to be accused of working its employees into the ground."

"You look like you're enjoying yourself, though."

"I am," Lisbon said. "I didn't expect to, but somehow knowing that I'm not allowed to work for the next two weeks has forced me to let it all go. It's immensely peaceful just being. Nothing to think about, nothing to do, nowhere to go. I guess I did need a holiday after all."

"Are you staying here the whole two weeks?" Susan asked.

Lisbon shook her head.

"Just this week. Next week I'm spending two days with each of my three brothers who all live in different parts of the country. I don't get to see them very often, so I'm looking forward to it. I miss watching my nieces and nephews growing up. I wish we all lived in the same town. Family is important."

"Do you get on with your sisters-in-law?"

"I haven't really had a chance to find out. I barely know them." It was something Lisbon regretted. She really did wish that she and her brothers all lived near one another. She missed the sense of belonging that she'd had with the boys growing up. They had been fiercely protective of each other; them against a hostile world. She had transferred some of that loyalty to her team, but it wasn't the same as family. She had a history and a bond with her brothers that could never be replicated with anyone else.

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their food, which looked and smelled too good for words. As a consequence, they gave up talking for a while in favour of eating.

0000000

Jane had taken the first few days of Lisbon's leave with equanimity. He knew that she needed a holiday and sincerely hoped that the break would do her good. The criminals of California had also apparently taken the week off and the office was dull enough for Jane to spend most of his time dozing. Since he was going through a bout of particularly unpleasant nightmares whenever he managed to get any sleep, this suited him well.

A few days of her absence, however, was enough to make his subconscious rebel. It decided to exact punishment by casting Lisbon as a victim in one of Jane's more gory nightmares. Thereafter Jane found himself unable to stop worrying about Lisbon, even though he tried to persuade himself that his fears were irrational. He didn't like it that she was in a place where no-one knew her. Once she was with her brothers, he'd feel easier about her, but what if something happened while she was at the holiday resort by the sea? She seemed so vulnerable, all alone without even her gun for company.

Although he'd been the one to tell Lisbon to turn off her cell-phone and not to contact the office for the duration of her holiday, Jane finally gave in to his own panic and tried calling her. The phone went straight to voicemail, which surprised Jane. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd phoned Lisbon and she hadn't immediately answered. It seemed she had followed his advice. He'd have to remember to tease her about that when she got back.

It didn't solve Jane's present dilemma, however, and, against his better judgement, he finally called the resort and asked to speak to her. The man at reception told Jane that there was no point in putting the call through to Miss Lisbon's room because she was currently having lunch on the terrace. Would he like him to call her to the phone?

"No, no need to disturb her," Jane said hurriedly. His sense of relief at knowing that Lisbon was doing something as mundane and safe as having lunch was enormous.

Did he want to leave a message? Jane considered for a moment, then thought he had better. The receptionist might tell her someone had called and that would just worry her if no message was left.

"Please tell her that Jane called to make sure she's having fun. She doesn't need to call me back, though. I was just checking in."

The receptionist asked him to spell his name, clearly puzzled. Jane explained that his first name was Patrick, but that Miss Lisbon called him by his last name. The message was then taken down correctly. Jane felt he had an ally.

"Is she having fun, do you think?" he enquired casually.

Miss Lisbon was an ideal guest, it turned out. Quiet, undemanding and clearly happy to just relax and enjoy her beautiful surroundings. She was presently having lunch with one of the other guests (the receptionist made sure that Jane knew that it was a _lady_ guest). In conclusion, she seemed to be having fun in a very low-key kind of way.

Jane's fears were soothed by this very Lisbon-sounding behaviour. All was well. He thanked the receptionist sincerely and hung up.

"Weren't you the one who told her she shouldn't call the office?" Cho asked dryly.

Jane shrugged nonchalantly.

"I never thought she'd actually listen to me," he said, lying down and closing his eyes. "Sounds like she's having a restful holiday. Nothing to worry about."

Cho looked thoughtfully at the only part of Jane he could still see, which was the top of his head. None of them had ever discussed the possibility that Red John might target one (or all) of them, but it was something that they all thought about. Lisbon was the most likely one to be targeted, and it was a worry that sat at the back of Cho's brain and which he tried hard to ignore, since there was nothing he could do about it. Clearly Jane had the same worry. Cho grimaced slightly to himself. They really needed to catch that bastard.

0000000

Susan, sensing Lisbon's extreme reluctance to talk about herself, was instead telling Lisbon all about her own life in San Diego. Her parents, both of her sisters and her cousins (who had grown up with her like siblings) all lived within a short drive of her home, as did her late husband's parents, whom she still saw often. The family sounded close, and Lisbon felt strangely disconsolate at how alien such an interconnected, supported life sounded.

After lunch, they decided to go for a walk along the beach. Susan, who found Lisbon enigmatic and rather fascinating, finally couldn't prevent herself from blurting out, "Why do you hate talking about yourself so much?"

Lisbon looked at her, a little startled, but she answered the question as truthfully as she could.

"In order to talk about myself I have to think about my life. I try to avoid that because it just ends up making me depressed."

When Susan didn't say anything, Lisbon added, "You don't approve."

Susan looked at her for a moment.

"It's not that. It's just that I've found from personal experience that ignoring things doesn't make them go away. And the longer you don't deal with something, the more damage it causes."

Lisbon stopped walking and gazed out over the sea. Susan waited for her to say what she seemed to be working up the courage to say. Finally Lisbon said, "My father dealt with things by becoming an alcoholic. I'm terrified that I'll end up doing the same thing. It runs in my family."

"So you think that if you acknowledge your pain or your problems, you'll end up dealing with it all by drowning yourself in alcohol? Because from where I stand, people use alcohol so that they _won't_ have to deal with their lives – something you seem able to do without chemical assistance."

Lisbon gave Susan a ghost of a smile.

"I think it's too late for me to start dealing with things now – I have a lifetime of undealt with issues to sort out. If I tried now..." she trailed off.

"You think that if you open the floodgates, they'll completely overwhelm you?"

"Pretty much."

"So don't open the floodgates. Just start with the earliest unresolved issue that you can remember and see how that goes. Work through them one at a time. Nice and orderly."

"Are you teasing me?"

"Not at all," Susan said, smiling at her. "Let's sit on these rocks and you can tell me about your first crisis and why you felt you couldn't deal with it. Talking is surprisingly therapeutic. It's as though the act of converting a thought into something concrete somehow makes it a part of the world at large rather than a part of us personally. And that makes it easier for us to become objective about it and eventually move past it. Or am I being too fanciful?"

"No, I like that idea," Lisbon said, settling herself on the sand with her back against a rock. Susan sat down next to her.

"When I was little, I poured my whole life out to my Mom. It was as though something didn't become real until I'd shared it with her and got her reaction. Nothing remained unresolved back then."

She was silent for so long that Susan prompted, "And then...?"

"And then she died," Lisbon said. She was silent again.

Susan said softly, "I'm sorry."

"Drunk driver ran a red light. I was twelve. It felt as though the world had ended."

"Well, it had in a way, hadn't it?"

Lisbon nodded.

"Dad certainly thought so. He disappeared into an alcoholic haze after that. It was clear that he didn't think life was worth living without Mom. He stayed sober only long enough to get his work done every day. The moment he got home, he'd start drinking until he'd numbed himself into a stupor or passed out completely."

"So who took care of you and your brothers?"

"I did. I was the eldest."

Susan looked at Lisbon as though her heart was hurting her.

"Wasn't there someone else you could ask for help? Your grandparents? Aunts and uncles? Family friends?"

"There wasn't anyone I was close enough to to really be able to confide in. I was afraid that if anyone knew, they'd take us away and split us up. Who's going to take on four kids? And besides, I loved my Dad. He was all I had left. I believed in those early days that he'd get better. By the time I realised he wouldn't, I was used to taking care of things."

"But you were so little."

"I knew how to cook and I'd give my Dad lists of groceries to pick up on the way home from work, which he always did. My brothers and I shared out the chores and I helped my brothers with their homework and made sure my Dad showed up at parent-teacher meetings and so on. After our electricity was cut off one time, I also took over paying the bills – my Mom had always done it and Dad kept forgetting. He just signed the cheques that I told him to sign. He did take care of us financially. And I got really good at being efficient and organised."

"And how were you emotionally?"

"Mostly I was just trying to survive, but there was an irrational little part of me that thought that if I hung on long enough and held everything together that Mom would suddenly show up and be so proud of me for filling in for her. I just wanted her back. Death is such a hard thing to accept. Part of me still thinks that she can't really be gone; that's it's all just been a bad joke and that one day she'll reappear as suddenly as she disappeared."

"So you coped by fantasizing about how it would be when she returned?"

Lisbon's head drooped a little.

"Sometimes. It made me feel less lonely. It made her seem closer. Then after a while I just got used to my life. It started to feel as though it had always been that way. That's when I intentionally stopped thinking about her because I didn't want to be reminded that life had once been different. I accepted that this was what my life was and I just got on with it. And that's basically how I've lived my life ever since."

"You must be angry at your father for failing you, though?"

Lisbon's gaze flicked sideways at Susan. She seemed reluctant to admit that Susan was right.

"He did the best he could."

"But his best wasn't good enough, was it?"

"You know, you should have become a psychiatrist," Lisbon said, teasingly trying to deflect Susan.

Susan smiled at her.

"If you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to," she said gently, not wanting to push Lisbon too far. It was a miracle that she'd opened up as much as she had.

Lisbon looked at her for a long tense moment. Then she said, "My father was weak." Weakness was one of the worst things Lisbon could accuse someone of, and she felt both justified and guilty labelling her father as such.

"Yes," Susan agreed, "He was. But we all are, aren't we? Just in different areas. It was your father's great misfortune that his weakness was exposed. If your mother had outlived him, you might never have known that he was weak."

"Are you defending him now?" Lisbon asked, confused.

"Not at all. He was weak. He did fail you. You have a right to be angry with him. But I've found that forgiveness becomes much easier once I remember that I'm not perfect either. That given the right circumstances, I can do terrible things too. It's not a justification, but it does remind me to do unto others as I'd have them do unto me. Forgiveness benefits the person doing the forgiving much more than it does the person being forgiven, but strangely enough that doesn't seem to make it any easier to do. I have lots of tricks for making forgiveness easier."

"Such as?"

"Well, I'm a very visual person, so I like to imagine myself digging a very deep hole, like a grave. Then I dump into the hole the wrong that was done to me, along with all the negative effects it's had and all the negative feelings it's generated in me. Then I fill in the hole and plant something beautiful on top – a beautiful flower, or a tree or whatever I'm in the mood for. That plant is my forgiveness. Whenever the anger or hatred or unforgiveness recurs – which, of course, it keeps on doing for a while, because forgiveness is a process – I imagine myself going and watering my beautiful plant and watching it grow and flourish. Eventually I don't even need to do that. Out of the pain, something beautiful grows and I end up being a better person for it. I have a whole graveyard of buried grievances which have produced a wonderful garden full of trees and flowers."

"Is that the garden where the flower fairies live?" Lisbon asked, giving her a wicked little grin.

"Well, of course, you're welcome there any time," Susan teased her right back. Lisbon's hard-luck story made her seem more like a fairy-tale character than ever.

Lisbon laughed. She still found it both odd and attractive to be thought of as a fairy. She'd always been a tom-boy, but was nevertheless not immune to the attractions of being considered pretty and ethereal. Besides, fairies are magical and can fly, and Lisbon had always harboured a secret wish that she could fly.

"Well, perhaps I need to plant my own garden, as you said. What kind of fairy did you say I was?"

"Blackthorn or heliotrope," Susan said with a smile. "But don't let Miss Barker's drawings inhibit you. You can grow anything you like."

Lisbon stood up and stretched.

"I think it's time for tea," she said. "I'll think about gardening later."

Susan got up and they started the pleasant walk back to the resort, paddling in the waves and looking out for shells as they went.

"If I could draw, I would create some shell fairies," Susan said, after they found a few very pretty ones. Lisbon teased her about being obsessed with fairies and Susan protested that it was only because she was hanging out with one, which earned her a thorough splashing. She would have liked to have returned the favour, but Lisbon was too quick and wary to be caught out. She reverted very quickly to kid-mode when she was being mischievous. Susan reckoned Lisbon must have been a bit of a terror when she was little.

0000000

Jane was delighted when Lisbon's picture lit up his cell-phone.

"Hey Lisbon," he said when he answered.

"I gather you're missing me," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

"Of course. How could I not?" he replied.

A little rush of warmth ran through Lisbon. It was nice to be missed.

"Let me guess," he continued. "You're lying on your bed in your most comfortable sweatpants and T-shirt and you have the light off and the curtains and the windows open so that you can see the stars and hear the waves."

"Let _me_ guess," she responded. "You're lying on the couch at work in your three-piece-suit and the light is off because everyone else has left already and you're trying to decide whether it's worth the trouble going home when you could just stay exactly where you are all night."

"Wow, I must be rubbing off on you," Jane said, a little impressed. "Though you get no credit for what I'm wearing and only half-credit for knowing that I'm still on my couch."

"You should go home, Jane. Make yourself something nice for dinner, watch TV, have a nice relaxing bath and go to bed. Staying at the office to brood isn't going to do you or your suit any good."

"Well, since you make it sound so appealing, maybe I will," Jane said. "So, you're having a good time, then? You sound happy."

"I am happy. I'm working my way through a pile of books I've been meaning to read for ages, I'm sunbathing and eating and sleeping. It's very relaxing. I thought I would hate it, but I'm loving it. I guess I needed a holiday after all."

"Well, while you're feeling so positive about it you should plan your next holiday. If you wait until you're back at work, you'll forget this feeling and refuse to take time off again. Make plans with your brothers and book the time off now so you can't take it back. Or make reservations at someplace you've always wanted to go. You can delegate the task to me if you like. Maybe I should come with you next time."

This last suggestion slipped out without Jane really thinking about it. Only once it was out did it seem a somewhat inappropriate suggestion.

"It would defeat the object of getting away from work to bring a colleague with me on holiday," Lisbon said, not taking him in the least bit seriously. Jane was always saying things he didn't mean.

Her resistance was Jane's cue to push his case.

"Ah, come on, Lisbon. Just a few days somewhere. I've always wanted to go to Yosemite."

He'd caught Lisbon's attention now.

"Actually, I've also always wanted to go there. I guess we could take a couple of days off around a weekend and go for a few days. It would be kind of fun to go together. When you go somewhere spectacular you want to be able to share the feeling of awe with someone."

"I'll make all the arrangements," Jane said. "Leave it to me."

"You're not going to pull some silly stunt like booking us into a single room or something just to see how I'll react, are you?" Lisbon was suspicious of Jane's eagerness.

"I'll run everything by you first and get your stamp of approval, since you're so untrusting," Jane assured her, "but you should have more faith in me, Lisbon."

Lisbon snorted at that and said, "Yeah, right!"

Jane smiled a little and said, "Since I now have such a busy evening ahead of me, I'd better get going."

"Hope you sleep well tonight," Lisbon said.

"You too. And thanks for calling, Lisbon." There was hesitance in his tone, which Lisbon noticed.

"I'll check my phone every evening, so if you leave a message I'll get back to you then," she said.

She could practically hear Jane smiling down the phone-line.

"Have a good holiday, Lisbon," he said softly before he hung up.

0000000

Lisbon spent most of the next few days hanging out with Susan. Although she tried to resist talking about herself, Susan had a knack for getting her to spill her guts. In return she told Lisbon all about her own life and what losing her husband had been like and how she was coping with the loss. Lisbon had to admit that talking about her life and all the feelings she'd had bottled up for so long was surprisingly freeing. Once everything was expressed and "put into concrete form", as Susan put it, it always seemed far less overwhelming and scary and unmanageable. She even tried out Susan's method of forgiving, though she wasn't sure whether she'd had any success with it or not. All she knew was that she felt lighter and happier than she'd felt in as long as she could remember. And she'd found a genuine friend, which was also a rare and wonderful thing.

When they parted at the end of the week, Susan surprised Lisbon by handing her a gift. She had such a mischievous expression on her face, that Lisbon opened it very warily, to discover a hardcover copy of Cicely Mary Barker's "A World of Flower Fairies". They both burst out laughing.

"Something for you to read on the plane," Susan said. "Let me know which one you think you are."

Lisbon's visits with her brothers were more successful than she'd hoped they would be, because she finally managed to broker peace between Tommy and the other two after a feud that had gone on for far too long. To seal the deal, she followed Jane's advice and persuaded them all to plan a holiday together at the end of the year. They decided to go on a skiing trip, and even made bookings so that no-one would back out. The kids were wild with delight at the idea. Lisbon was a little more cautious and worried that the whole thing would blow up in their faces, but she didn't let that stop her from enjoying her time with her family. She even managed to make a bit of time to hang out with her sisters-in-law, an effort which was long over-due, but graciously received and appreciated both by the women and by Lisbon's brothers, who naturally wanted their big sister to be friends with their wives. All in all, it was a tiring but worthwhile holiday.

Arriving back in Sacramento, Lisbon collected her bags from the luggage carousel and made a beeline for the airport exit to look for a taxi. She was startled to hear her name being called by a very familiar voice.

"Jane?" she said, looking around for him.

"Hey, Lisbon," he said from behind her, making her jump. She turned and looked at him in surprise.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Jane took one of her bags from her and presented her with yellow rose.

"Welcome home," he said. "Your chariot awaits."

He ushered her out to his car and into the passenger seat. Before they set off, he handed her a couple of sheets of paper.

"I've been looking into the whole Yosemite holiday idea, and those are three options for you to choose from, depending on what time of year you'd prefer. Lady's choice."

Lisbon looked at him for a moment, but his face was giving nothing away, so she turned and read through all the information he'd given her. He'd clearly gone to a lot of effort and had tried to think of everything.

"Are you sure you want to go hiking?" she queried at one point. "You don't strike me as the hiking type."

"You're just worried I'm going to slow you down, aren't you?" he said, with a grin. "Not to worry, Lisbon, I will make an effort to get a little fitter before we go, so as not to cramp your style."

Lisbon knew better than to ask him which one he'd rather go on. He wanted her to choose, so she did.

"The first one," she said.

Jane beamed.

"Another holiday so soon after the last one, Lisbon! I'm impressed," was all he said, but Lisbon knew she'd picked the one he'd hoped she would. She sat back and closed her eyes, so she wouldn't have to think about his driving. It was good to be home.

THE END


End file.
